With the Darkness as my Blanket
by TheNargleQueen
Summary: Brother to the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry is an outcast in his own family. What will happen when Voldemort is not as vanquished as everyone thinks? WARNING: HPLV SLASH
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Harry Potter (although I may borrow him from time to time), and I make no profit from this story.**

**This is my first fanfic, so let me know what you think! Critiques are welcome, don't be shy! :)**

**Also, WARNING, THIS WILL CONTAIN SLASH. Don't like, don't read.**

* * *

"James Potter! You! This is all your fault! You're getting sterilized after this, you hear me! Bloody hell! I'll rip your balls off myself! _Merlin!"_

Madam Pomfrey ignored the cursing, used to this behavior from her patients, although the swiftly paling man that huddled in the corner of the bedroom seemed overwhelmed.

"Come on, push, that's it dear, almost there," she crooned, hands ready to deliver the baby while her partner cast a succession of monitoring and pain-reliving spells. "Almost there, come on, push!"

With a strangled scream, the baby boy came into the world.

"It's a boy," Pomfrey announced, smiling down into the face of the squalling child. She wrapped him up in a read blanket and handed the squirming bundle over to Molly Weasley as the mother started to scream again.

"Come on, one down one to go, push! That's it, dear! It's almost over."

Twins, the mediwitch thought as she watched the head of the second baby slowly emerge. While not exactly rare in the wizarding world, it was uncommon enough to be a surprise. Another scream, a final push, and the second twin came into the world.

"Boys, the both of them," Pomfrey announced, peering worriedly down at the small child. It wasn't crying, wasn't moving. With a firm slap against his small back, the child coughed and started to sputter, but didn't cry. It was breathing, however, and with a quick cleaning spell Madam Pomfrey wrapped it in a blanket, this one a cobalt blue.

She and Molly handed the boys to Lily, who was breathing heavily and smiling brightly, while her husband looked on in shock, his eyes flashing from the contented face of his wife to his two newborn sons.

"Matthias Gabriel Prometheus Iapetus and Heracles Azrael Alexandros Hyperion," she exclaimed.

James Potter made a little disgruntled sound. "Lily? Don't you think that's a bit… pompous? And long? I thought we were going to name them Matt and Harry…" he trailed off at the sharp glare his wife gave him.

"Did you carry these two boys for nine months?"

"Well, no, but—"

"And did you have to gain twenty pounds and be confined to bed rest and have hot flashes and headaches?"

"No, but—"

"And did you have to spend two hours in labor delivering our twin boys?"

"No, but still—"

"Their names shall be Matthias Gabriel Prometheus Iapetus and Heracles Azrael Alexandros Hyperion. Matt and Harry can be their nicknames."

"Oh, all right…" he trailed off, defeated.

"Look at them," Lily's voice cut through his thoughts, gentle and shining with pride. He stepped up to the bedside and gazed down at his sons, _his sons_, as they lay wrapped up in blankets and settled in his wife's arms.

Heracles Azrael Alexandros Hyperion Potter was the smaller of the two, with a small shock of dark hair and pale skin. Matthias Gabriel Prometheus Iapetus Potter was larger, with a rosy complexion and hair as red as Lily's. His sons. He had never felt more proud.

* * *

Lily Potter stood in the nursery of their Fidelused house, watching her sons sleep, her heart heavy and her eyes wet with tears. She needed to tell James. He was starting to suspect already, she knew. He noticed that Heracles' hair was jet black, not the Potter dark brown, and held nothing of the Potter wildness. He noticed that his eyes were a vivid jet green that put Lily's mossy eyes to shame. He noticed the elegant facial structure, visible even in the boy's young face, a facial structure that neither Lily nor James shared. Matthias, however, was like a miniature James, except with her red hair. His eyes were the hazel of James', his nose and chin a replica of his father's. There was no doubt that Matthias was James' child. Heracles, however….

Heteropaternal Superfecundation was rare, even in the wizarding world, but it wasn't unheard of. And the older Heracles got, the more obvious it became that James wasn't his father. She needed to tell James, needed to admit to her mistake, her infidelity. She would have never guessed that one night of drunken abandon would catch up to her in such a way.

She could only hope that James would forgive her indiscretion.

* * *

"WHAT!"

"James, I'm sorry, it was an accident…"

"You _accidentally_ slept with another man?! What, did he fall on you?! I can't believe you cheated on me!"

"I was drunk and angry, it was only one time…"

"You cheated on me! With _who_? Who is the bastard? _I'm going to kill him_…" he said the last in a mutter, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as his chest heaved.

"I don't know!" Lily wailed. "I don't remember! I was drunk! All I remember was that there was this guy and then we were kissing and the next thing I knew I was waking up naked in bed!"

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as James' face quickly got redder and his breaths shorter and more ragged.

"When? When was this? Why… why would you do this to me?"

"We had just had a fight," Lily said in a small voice. "It was after the Muldiflow case, remember? I was mad at you for being reckless on the job and almost getting yourself killed, you were mad at me for working late and being inconsiderate, we had words and it ended up in a screaming match, you flooed over to Sirius's and I apparated to the nearest bar. It was a one time thing and I regretted it immediately. It meant nothing. I… I didn't want to tell you. I was ashamed."

At this she burst into tears and started sobbing into one of the cushions. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

James bit his lip, feeling his anger quickly draining away. He never did handle tears well.

"It's okay," he finally said, patting his wife's back awkwardly. "It was only the one time? You… you promise?"

"I swear, James, only the once! I'm so, _so_ sorry!"

"So… what does this mean?" James asked finally, voice hollow. "Is… are they still my sons?"

Lily bit back a sob and shook her head. "Matthias is. He looks too much like you not to be. But… I don't know about Heracles. I… I wanted to tell you before I got a heritage test done."

James nodded and turned from where he stood before the couch Lily was sitting on, heading for the cloak rack by the door.

"James? Where are you going?"

"_We_ are going to Gringotts," he exclaimed, pulling on his cloak and fastening it under his chin. "We're going to get a heritage test, right now."

"Wait! Do you really think this is a good idea, I mean, Voldermort—"

James's hard look made her fall silent. "I need to know, Lily. I… I forgive you. But I need to know."

She sighed and nodded. Yes, it was understandable. "I'll go get the boys," she said in a quiet voice. At his nod, she headed into the nursery and shook the boys awake.

"Mummy?" Heracles asked sleepily, rubbing the tiredness from his emerald eyes.

"Mama!" Matthias exclaimed, holding up chubby arms in a demand to be held. She scooped up both boys, balancing them each on a hip, and walked towards where he husband stood waiting by the fireplace. It was dangerous to apparate with children, so they would have to use the floo.

"You first," James said, throwing a handful of green powder into the fire.

"Gringotts, Diagon branch!" she exclaimed, stepping into the flames, closing her eyes and holding her children tight as she was whisked away, hoping that somehow this would all turn out all right, hoping that she was wrong and that both of her boys were James's sons. With one final spin, she stopped and stumbled out of the hearth into the white marble entrance hall of the wizarding bank.

It was time to find out the truth.

James exited the fire soon afterwards, shepherding her to the counter as she struggled to keep hold of a now squirming Matthias, who seemed frightened by the goblins who were sneering at the soot-covered family.

"I need a heritage test for my sons," James demanded of the goblin who stared apathetically at him from behind the counter.

"That will be ten galleons each," was the bored reply. "Griphook!"

The family waited while a particularly surly-looking goblin made his way over to the counter.

"Yes?"

"Show the Potters to the Testing Chambers and administer a heritage test to the sons."

"Very well." The goblin turned on his heel and started walking towards one of the various doors that lined the great hall.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the first goblin snarled. "Go follow him!"

Lily nodded and hurried after Griphook, who was almost across the hall. The Potters followed him into a brightly-lit, rather Spartan stone chamber, which held nothing but a stone altar and a few chairs.

"Well? Take a seat."

Lily hurried to comply, shifting the twins onto her lap, while James examined the room once more before taking the seat behind her.

"Well? Who's first?"

James plucked Matthias from her lap and held him out towards the goblin, who was extracting what appeared to be a stone bowl from a cabinet that was concealed beneath the altar.

He placed the bowl on the altar and poured a vial of runny black potion into it before offering a small knife to James.

"Three drops of blood, no more, no less."

James nodded and held a squirming Matthias as he pricked the child's finger, ignoring the shriek his son gave at the wound, although the goblin grimaced at the noise. He held the child's hand over the bowl as the requisite three drops of blood fell into the potion, turning it a milky white.

The two parents stared hard at the potion, ignoring the slightly squirming children, as inky black words began to form on the milky surface.

_Matthias Gabriel Prometheus Iapetus Potter, son of James Charlus Potter and Lily Marian Potter nee Evans._

Lily released a breath she didn't even know she had held as James visibly slumped in relief, holding his son close and sending a quick healing spell towards the cut on the child's small hand.

The goblin vanished the potion with a wave of his hand and pulled out another bottle, refilling the bowl. "Next?"

James vanished the rest of the blood on the knife and handed Matthias to his wife, taking Heracles instead and making a shallow cut across his hand. Heracles didn't scream as his brother had, but wide green eyes fixed on James.

"Papa?"

James ignored his son's inquiry and watched as three drops of blood rolled down the pale skin to fall into the waiting potion. He handed Heracles back to his wife and clenched his hands into fists as he once again watched the words form across the surface of the potion.

_Heracles Azrael Alexandros Hyperion Potter, son of Regulus Orion Black and Lily Marian Potter nee Evans._

For a moment there was perfect silence.

"Regulus Black!" James exploded. "Sirius's _brother_, Lily! What were you _thinking_?!" The woman in question shrunk back, arms holding her sons tight.

"I wasn't! I didn't know!"

"A Death Eater, Lily! A _Death Eater_!"

The goblin looked unperturbed by James's tirade, but turned calculating eyes towards the green-eyed child who was staring at his not-father with fear as the man exploded at his wife.

"What now?" she asked tremulously after he had finally cooled down.

"We tell no-one," he demanded firmly. "As the firstborn and heir of Potter, Matthias will get everything. I won't disinherit Heracles, but I won't allow Regulus's son to touch the Potter fortune." He turned towards the goblin. "You have the necessary paperwork. Make it so."

Ignoring his wife's quiet whimpers, he scooped up his true son and stormed out of the bank, his wife and her whelp on his heels.

He had flooed home only to find Albus Dumbledore settled comfortably on the overstuffed settee in their living room looking abnormally grave, the usual twinkle gone from his eyes.

"James," he said as he stood to greet the man, "I'm afraid I have some bad news…."

It had been two years since Dumbledore had arrived at their house and informed them that Peter Pettigrew had been found murdered by Death Eaters, immediately offering to redo the Fidelus Charm with another Secret Keeper. Since he himself was Secret Keeper to the Longbottoms, Dumbledore had recommended Molly Weasley for the job. They had immediately agreed, and had been careful not to stray from the bounds of the Fidelus over their house on Godric's Hollow.

James had forgiven Lily for her affair, but she could sense that he looked at Harry differently now. He was distant towards the child, who didn't understand what he had done wrong. She had done her best to be extra-caring towards Heracles to make up for it, but she had to admit to herself that his dark, aristocratic features made her uncomfortable, as if she was staring her infidelity in the face every time she looked at the introverted child.

Matthias was the exact opposite of his brother; loud where Heracles was quiet, animated where Heracles was reserved. There were like the sun and the moon, Lily thought fondly, each ruling their separate hemispheres with dedication. Heracles could be found in the library during almost all waking hours, and she had even walked in there at night a few times to find him curled up on the leather sofa, fast asleep with a picture-book still open in his lap. Matthias, however, avoided the library like the plague, preferring to spend his time tormenting the house elves in the kitchen or wrestling with Sirius and Remus whenever they visited or skimming the grass with his toes as he flew around the modest grounds on his toddler-broom as James watched to make sure he stayed within the wards. Matthias was always active, could never seem to sit still for more than a few minutes, while Heracles seemed content to curl up with a book for hours.

She worried, sometimes, about how withdrawn Heracles was becoming— he seemed to retreat further and further into himself as the months passed. She knew, in part, it was likely due to the fact that James no longer paid him any attention, ignoring his presence whenever they were in the same room, focusing his attention onto his twin instead.

Perhaps she should invite Molly and her family over, the Weasleys were light-sided and lively, and perhaps they could draw Heracles out of his isolation. If not, at least Matthias would have someone else to expend all his excess energy on, and give James a break.

* * *

The Weasleys had just left from their weekly play-date when the sudden chill shot through the air, freezing Lily in her tracks and causing James to drop into a fighting stance and start frantically examining the wards. He came across a vivid red strand that hadn't been there before and dropped the ward like it had burned him.

"Lily! Take the twins and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

Lily stooped down and grabbed Matthias, who was tugging at the bottom of her robe, and swooped over to the couch and snatched Heracles from where he was sleeping, running upstairs and towards the nursery where the emergency portkey was hidden.

"Mummy? What's wrong?" Harry asked in a small voice, watching the panic flit across his mother's face as he clung to her blouse.

"Is the bad man coming?" Matt questioned, voice trembling, his squirming threatening to unbalance her as she raced up the stairs with a child in each arm. Barreling into the nursery, she heard a shout and high, maniacal laughter echoing from downstairs. Setting down the two boys, she dove towards the toy chest, searching for the stuffed pink bear that would take them to Dumbledore's cottage in Manchester, doing her best to ignore Matthias's frightened whimpers.

"_Lily_."

The cold, cruel voice sent her whirling away from the toy chest to stare up into bright red eyes as she sprawled across the floor, grasping for her wand.

"_Silencio! Petrificus Totalus!_"

Too late. She froze, paralyzed, as she gazed up into the face of the Dark Lord.

"Lily, Lily, Lily," he crooned, elated at his success so far. "Did you really think you could hide from me forever?"

He seemed to delight in the panic her roving eyes conveyed as they flickered between him and her two sons. He followed her gaze to the twin boys, eyeing them appraisingly. The redhead was wailing his fear to the world as he huddled behind a toy rocking-horse, staring at Lord Voldermort in abject terror. The dark-haired child, on the other hand, was standing silently by his brother, watching the proceedings with trepidation, but also with a glimmer of curiosity.

"Are… are you Voldermort, then?" the dark-haired boy asked timidly as he studied the man before him in much the same way as he was being evaluated.

Voldermort gazed at the small child, idly noticing the strange feeling of aristocracy that the boy emanated.

"Yes, I am," he answered finally. "And who might you be?"

He smiled gently at the boy staring up at him, delighting in the feeling of Lily's magic spiking as her terror escalated.

"I'm Harry Potter. Are… are you going to kill us, then?"

Red eyes widened at the question. Voldermort bent down and scooped up the small boy, holding him so he could look at the boy eye-to-eye. Small legs instinctively wrapped around his torso as small hands fisted in the black fabric of his cloak, afraid of being dropped.

"Do you want to die?"

Ruby red eyes stared into emerald green. Distantly, he noted that the pitiful sobbing of the other boy had quieted slightly, but it was a passing thought that held no importance compared to the emerald fire he was observing.

"Well, no, not really. Do I get a choice?"

The boy looked adorably confused. Voldermort chucked and impulsively pressed a kiss to the scrunched-up forehead, moving to settle the boy on his hip, one arm holding him to his chest as the other brandished his yew wand.

"You know, Lily," he started conversationally, gazing apathetically at the paralyzed witch and her red-headed brat, "I think I might just keep this one. He's a beauty. He would make _such_ a good little Death Eater, don't you think? I'm sure with a little instruction he would be right at home in my ranks." He smiled at the panicking witch, twirling his yew wand as he pretended to consider the idea. "The other brat has got to go, though," he stated finally, reveling in the way her magic rolled around the room, fruitlessly trying to fight the Body-Bind Curse.

"Say goodbye to the little brat, Lily." His wand pointed steadily towards the now-screaming toddler.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

And then the world exploded.

Lily watched with wide eyes as the killing curse traveled towards Matthias, and then,_ miracle of all miracles_, reversed, bouncing off the screaming boy and traveling back towards a wide-eyed Voldermort.

_Heracles_, her mind screamed, _Don't let it hit Harry!_

As if in answer to her prayers, the curse traveled true, striking the Dark Lord in the chest. The effect was instantaneous.

The Dark Lord's body dissolved in front of her eyes, his magic spiraling out of control to condense in the center like an implosion, her baby, her Harry, caught in the center of the magical maelstrom, his keening wail echoing through her ears. The magical pressure in the room was almost unbearable, she could feel it crushing her even through the body-bind, could hear the sounds of the furniture snapping and buckling under the pressure.

For a moment everything leveled out. She could see Matthias to her side, surrounded by a dome of protective blue light, and Heracles suspended in the air in front of her, back arched and eyes wide. Then the magic rushed out, exploding across the room, tearing through any obstacle in its path with a vicious ferocity, sending a magical shockwave out that could be felt for three blocks as the Potter family fell unconscious in what was left of their home.

Heracles woke to the sound of voices and a tingling sweeping across his skin. Groaning, he opened his eyes to see the sun shining through a break in the clouds, much too bright for his semi-somnolent brain. After a moment to let his eyes adjust, he opened them again and sat up.

He was surprised to see that he was inside, in his house— or what was left of it, anyway. A big hole had been blown through the wall, through which he could see the hallway, and the roof above the room was missing completely. The furniture lay in ruins about the room, scorched and warped beyond salvation. His mother and father were standing in the corner, Matt hugging Lily's legs as they talked to an oddly-dressed man with a long white beard. _Was this the Dumbles-door that his parents were always talking about?_

"There is no doubt," the old man was saying, "Matthias here has defeated Voldermort. Lily, you were witness. Can you tell us exactly what happened?"

"He came in," Lily said hesitantly, "I was looking for the portkey, it was mixed in with all the other toys, and I couldn't find it. He came in and silenced me before putting me under the full body-bind. He taunted me for a bit. Then… then he started talking with Harry. He was taunting me, telling me how he would take Heracles away and make him a good Death Eater. He picked him up, and then sent the killing curse at Matt, but it bounced back and hit him in the chest. Then he just… dissolved. Exploded. Do… do you think he's really dead? Is he coming back?"

"I don't know," the old man replied, stroking his beard as twinkling blue eyes gazed through the open ceiling to peer speculatively at the clouds. "The killing curse does not usually dissolve the body. But then again, Voldermort was so far gone, so inhuman, that perhaps the usual magical laws no longer apply to him. Regardless, I think it is safe to say that Matthias has successfully defeated him, at least for a time."

The old man pulled out a wand and waved it gracefully through the air a few times. Heracles watched in awe as smoky silver ribbons shot out of the wand and weaved their way through the air, a silvery trail sparkling behind them as they threaded their way around the room, seeming to concentrate around Matt's head before abandoning his twin and swarming around him, tickling as the tingles on his skin intensified, causing him to giggle.

"It tickles," he explained to the adults who had turned to look at him, turning his eyes towards their solemn faces.

"Oh Merlin!" Lily exclaimed, eyes widening in horror, as James took a sharp breath. Even Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly.

"You said that Heracles was caught in the middle of the explosion?" he questioned lightly, though the lack of twinkle in his eyes betrayed his concern.

"Yes. Voldermort was holding him when he was struck."

"Hmm. Heracles? Will you come over here for a moment?"

The boy nodded, rising up from his sitting position to pad over to the old man.

Dumbledore gazed at the young boy for a long moment, taking in the inhuman, snake-slitted eyes glowing a killing-curse green. A shot of gold seemed to flash through them for a moment, and the boy smiled.

"You're all sparkly!" he exclaimed in a surprised sort of voice, before he frowned slightly, his exuberance fading. "Can you take away the silver ribbons, though? They tickle."

"Sliver ribbons?" Dumbledore asked lightly. What was the boy talking about?

"Yeah, the silver ribbons you sent out of your wand earlier. They tickle."

The silver ribbons were doing a bit more than tickling, now, to be honest. They were wrapping around his person, loosely, but slowly tightening. It was actually starting to get a bit uncomfortable, but Heracles did his best to ignore the slight pain and focused instead on the old man who had sent the ribbons out after him.

Dumbledore looked at Heracles for a minute, then canceled his spell, the silver ribbons dissipating into the air. Heracles gave the grandfatherly man a grateful, if timid, smile, but the smile quickly slipped off his face as he caught sight of his mother's horrified expression.

What was wrong? The Voldermort man was gone now, wasn't he?

So why did Mummy look so scared?

* * *

"Matt! Your father's waiting for you! Hurry up and get ready!"

Heracles huddled back into the corner of the adjoining room, hidden by an open door, eyes closed as he listened to his family get ready for their picnic. He would not be going. He was too noticeable, his mother said guiltily, refusing to look him in the eyes that separated him from the rest of the wizarding world. There were no glamours that could cover them, no spells to hide them. And they were trying to pass as muggles for their picnic, and he didn't mind staying home, did he?

And so here he hid, listening to the laughter and lighthearted conversation that never seemed to take place in his presence, as if he were the physical manifestation of some great tragedy, as if to express joy in his presence was some sort of sacrilegious act. They treated him like a pariah, like an outcast, refusing to meet his cursed eyes, refusing to address him unless necessary, treating him like the proverbial elephant in the room. They knew he was there, but they refused to talk about him, to him, as if by ignoring his presence they could will him away.

Perhaps it was working. He spent as much time as possible hidden away in the library that neither his father nor Matthias would ever voluntarily enter. Even his mother rarely ventured into the library, busy as she was. And so it became Heracles's safe haven, his getaway, his sanctuary. As long as he wasn't around his family, he didn't have to deal with their neglect.

When he was in the library, he could pretend that they hadn't forgotten to get him a Christmas present this year, that they didn't ignore him whenever he was in the room, that he wasn't unwanted and that they did love him after all.

But he knew it was a lie.


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own Harry Potter, and I make no profit from this story.**

**Warnings: Child abuse, neglect, language, slash.**

**Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out, real life decided to step in and take over for a bit. Thank you all for being so patient, and I hope you enjoy the story. And with no further delay, on with**

**Chapter Two.**

Harry waited until the distinctive _whoosh_ of the floo activating had faded before peeking cautiously around the door, just in case his father had not gone with Matt and his mother. He was in luck, it seemed they had all taken the trip together. Harry let out the breath he had been holding and cautiously made his way into the parlor, eyes darting nervously around the empty room. His family would probably be gone for a good couple hours, so now was the perfect chance to execute a plan that was weeks in the making. Today, he was going to Diagon Alley.

His parents had hired private tutors for Matt to teach him the basics of magic, to prepare him for Hogwarts and his fame. Harry had tagged along with Matt in the beginning, but then Matt had complained that he was too much of a distraction and he had been banned from the lessons. With all the stress of trying to coordinate Matt's tutors around his public appearances, Harry's own education had been put to the back burner. Well, he didn't have to wait around for his parents to remember him, he could learn on his own.

Diagon Alley, along with all the shops and restaurants, also had a small primary school where purebloods often sent their children to help them learn to socialize with others their own age before starting at Hogwarts. The magical education was often left to tutors, but the primary school did cover basic subjects such as grammar, algebra, and magical theory. An owl had come to the Potter household with an invitation to enroll when Matt and Harry had turned four, but Matt had already started lessons with his tutors by then, and so Lily had tucked the invitation into a drawer and forgotten about it. Harry had found it again shortly after he turned six, and had been planning his trip ever since. He had been forced to wait almost a month for the perfect opportunity to travel to Diagon Alley unnoticed, and now he finally had his chance.

* * *

Diagon Alley was bigger than he had imagined. He pulled the hood of his cape further over his face, the enrollment invitation clutched tightly in one hand and a satchel thrown over his shoulder. People bustled around the alley, chattering loudly around him, and he had to take a deep breath to steel himself before pressing forward into the throng. It was difficult to navigate when everyone else was so much taller than you but Harry managed, using his small size to his advantage, squeezing between people and dodging shopping bags swinging wildly from gesturing arms.

Luckily, Gringotts Bank was hard to miss, and Heracles nodded shyly at the goblins as he passed, his eyes cast downward beneath the hood of his cloak to hide their unnaturalness. The bank was busy, so he stepped into line behind a portly man wearing the most ostentatiously gaudy robes he had ever seen and smelling strongly of cologne. The line moved quickly, and soon Harry found himself peering over the counter at a surly-looking goblin.

"Can I help you?" the goblin snarled.

"I need to go to the Potter vaults," Harry said softly, trying to avoid meeting the goblins sharp gaze without seeming impolite.

"Where are your parents?"

"They're with my brother," Harry said truthfully, fingers grasping nervously at the strap of his satchel.

"Hmph. Ironclaw!"

Another goblin stepped up to his side, seemingly out of nowhere, and took his arm.

"Follow me!"

The goblin started off towards one of the many doors, Harry's arm still tightly in his grip, and Harry had no choice but to stumble along behind him.

The door opened to a small platform with an old cart waiting for them, the railway track stretching out down a tunnel lit only by torches sporadically fastened to the stone walls. The goblin— _Ironclaw, _Harry reminded himself— jumped in with ease and settled at the front of the cart, giving Harry an impatient look. Harry scrambled to climb in after him, clutching his satchel to his chest with one hand as the other reached out to grab at the side of the cart as it jolted to a start and barreled down the tunnel without warning.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as the cart raced down the track at dizzying speeds, seeming to almost lift of the track as it whipped around corners in a labyrinth of tunnels. Gringotts, Harry decided, was definitely not someplace he would like to navigate on his own. Eventually, the cart screeched to a stop next to a small door in the tunnel wall. Ironclaw gave Harry a hard look, then got out of the cart and unlocked the door, turning to watch Harry as he approached the Potter vault. The vault door creaked open, and Harry's eyes went wide. He knew that his family was rich, but to see pile upon pile of Galleons taller than Harry himself was a very different experience. Behind the piles of gold was a treasure trove of old furniture, bookcases filled with manuscripts and tomes, an ominous-looking chest wrapped in heavy chains, and countless other curiosities. Harry approached a pile of Galleons in the corner that had toppled over a little and scooped a few handfuls of gold into his satchel. Tuition for Diagon Alley Primary was one thousand Galleons a year, and Harry knew that James monitored his bank statements closely enough that such a withdrawal would not go unnoticed. The twenty galleons needed for the schoolbooks, however, would easily slip under the radar. Once he had the requisite funds, Harry thanked the goblin and clambered back into the cart, bracing himself for the ride back. A quick thank you to Ironclaw for his help, a moment to adjust his hood to further cover his face, and Harry was ready to go.

Finding the school, Harry soon realized, was much harder than finding Gringotts had been. It was hard to navigate the crowds, and many of side streets of Diagon were poorly labeled. It took Harry a good twenty minutes just to fight his way through the swarms of shoppers to the other end of the street. Eventually, he saw a sign for the Diagon Alley Primary School pointing down a much calmer side street and slipped around the corner, breathing deeply. The school was ahead, a single story white brick building bordered by shrubbery squeezed in between a small apartment building and a quaint little bakery. The smell of fresh bread permeated the area and the chatter of Diagon Alley could be heard faintly in the distance, most likely muted by soundproofing wards.

Harry ducked into the bushes around the building and crept around to the back windows, which were cracked open to let in the breeze. He sat below the window, smoothing out the book-list that had come with the application, wishing that he could be in the classroom with the other students rather than hiding in the bushes behind it, eavesdropping on the lesson. With a small sigh, Harry settled down into his spot, back against the brick of the school building as he closed his eyes and listened to the lilting voice of the teacher as she explained Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration.

* * *

"Come _on_, Ron!" Matt's voice sounded over the open field that had been commandeered as a makeshift Quiddich pitch. "You know I'm a better beater!"

Harry shifted slightly on the branch he was currently perched on, moving toward the tree trunk so that he could see through a gap between the leafy branches obscuring his location from the redheaded gaggle on the ground. The Weasley clan had come over for another "play-date," which basically meant an inevitable Quiddich match and a squabble over who would play what position.

"That's not true!" Ron's voice rang over the field, right on cue. "I'm plenty good as a beater!"

Harry settled back, tuning out the ever-louder voices and lazily watching the silvery trails of magic the bludgers left in their wake as they tore aimlessly through the sky, corralled by the wards that James had erected around the pitch.

For all that he avoided participation, Harry didn't actually mind these parental-enforced play-dates. It gave him an excuse to stay outside, away from the awkward isolation that came from living with people who preferred to ignore your very existence. The Weasleys themselves were alright, he supposed, but they too could not meet his eyes without flinching and looking away, making for very uncomfortable conversations.

For a moment, Heracles looked longingly over at the field. The argument seemed to have been resolved, as everyone had mounted their brooms and were currently darting through the air tossing around a Quaffle and dodging the Bludgers. He wished for a moment that he was out there too, diving through the air to score the final goal, his accomplishment to be rewarded with hugs and high-fives. Silly. He looked away, gaze drifting almost unconsciously to the ring of bruises around his wrist. Frowning, he tugged his sleeve down to hide the offending marks. He didn't need any reminders of his father's last temper-tantrum.

"Hey, you okay?"

Harry almost fell out of the tree, jerking a hand out just in time to catch himself against the tree trunk. He glanced down to see the oldest Weasley child, William something-or-other.

"Wha-?" was the ever-intelligent response that came out of his mouth. He blushed, eyes focusing on the boys' left shoulder. People seemed to find conversation with him easier if he didn't meet their eyes directly.

"I said, are you okay? You've been up there for almost an hour, now."

Harry smiled. William was one of the more tolerable Weasley children. He didn't have Ronald's temper or Frederick and George's mischievousness. Rather, William was rather the most calm and cool-headed of the lot.

"I'm fine," Harry managed to choke out, fingers bracing himself against the rough bark of the tree. "I'm just reading." He held up the textbook that had been sitting open on the branch next to him as he had sunk into his daydreams.

William gave him a slightly skeptical look, then shrugged his shoulders. "Alright. Just checking."

With that, the redheaded boy turned on his heel and jogged back to the game, which seemed to have been paused to settle a dispute over some foul or another that Matt claimed had been perpetrated against him.

With a sigh, Harry settled back into his perch, regaining his balance and slumping back against the tree trunk. He needed to work on hiding better. For him, it was best not to be noticed. Especially in this house.

* * *

"Happy Birthday, Matt!"

Harry huddled back into the bushes at the side of the house, doing his best to ignore the sounds of happy laughter that echoed through the open window, trying to ignore the fact that it was his birthday too, and that no one seemed to care. James had shoved him out the door this morning with a warning to stay away until nightfall, _or else_. The _or else_ was left unsaid, but Heracles could imagine the punishment well enough. A beating, perhaps, or the belt, if James felt like being physical. A day or two in the cellar if he didn't want to bother with corporal punishment. A _Poena _or an _Acer_, or even an _Agon Maxima _if he was feeling particularly vicious. He hadn't used _Crucio_ yet, but Heracles feared it was only a matter of time.

Huddling in the shrubbery, Heracles contemplated the circumstances that had brought him here.

He could _remember _his father holding him and cooing at him and reading him storybooks when he was younger, so he knew that his father _had_ loved him, once upon a time. But something had changed, and then there had been no more cuddling and no more story time, and then Voldermort had come and the favoritism towards his brother had turned into his own outright neglect.

And then the drinking had started, and with that came the yelling, but only at him, only ever at him. He was forced to sit there, silent, scared, as James accused him of whatever had gone wrong that day, or in his life in general, raging at him with his face red and his hands waving and his spittle flying from a snarling mouth. He reminded Heracles of a rabid dog whenever he got like that, like a ravenous wolf who would love nothing more than to rend flesh from bone.

And then, one day, when James's partner had gotten hit with a lethal bone-breaking curse while on the job, Heracles had the misfortune to ask his father what was wrong, and had received a smack on the face for his troubles.

The physical abuse had escalated rapidly from there. A good hit or two had morphed into thorough beatings in less than a month, isolation in the cellar had been introduced soon after. It had taken almost half a year for James to add magic into the repertoire, but once he had, he had done so with a sick enthusiasm.

In less than a year, Harry's treatment at the hands of his father had gone from neglect to almost extreme levels of physical abuse.

His mother didn't know about the extent of it, and James had threatened to kill Heracles if he ever told, but she didn't protest the treatment about which she _did _know, and so Harry knew better than to count on her help anyway. She didn't care.

No one ever did.


End file.
